


Lazarus

by Just_Mad_Enough



Series: Negligible Senescence [8]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chloe is a trooper, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, God is chatty, I think I did the right thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Mad_Enough/pseuds/Just_Mad_Enough
Summary: The name Lazarus is frequently used in science and popular culture in reference to apparent restoration to life.





	Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, and I have the last part of this series with me! Now, the title probably tipped you off to SOME things about to happen, but hopefully you haven't guessed the whole thing yet.  
> Also, there's a VERY short epilogue, but I won't split this into two chapters. I'll just have it in this chapter - but maybe stop for a moment before reading it, and take a guess what's going to happen. Tell me if you guessed right?  
> And again, a HUGE thank you to ScooterThyme for the beta work. You rock!  
> Have fun, now!

There’s light up ahead. He hasn’t seen light in a very long time. Or maybe he never has, before. Everything is all hazy, and he can’t tell anymore. It’s calling out to him though, and somewhere in the muddle of his lost memories he knows he wouldn’t like this kind of cliché _. Head into the light_ , indeed.

But everything around him is pulling and pushing at him, and he knows that this place of not-being is falling apart whether he leaves or not.

He follows the light.

*** *** ***

They sit there, side by side, for hours. Sometimes she’s praying, sometimes just thinking of whatever flits through her mind.

Thinks of Trixie, and how she gets a thrill out of tackle-hugging Lucifer (mostly because her little monkey knows it’s making Lucifer uncomfortable and thinks it’s hilarious. She’s right.).  Of that time when they were at a stakeout, and she was _this_ close to falling asleep on the job. He knew and kept on, for a change, not talking _at_ her, but actually engaging her in conversation. He managed to keep her awake through the long hours of the night, and he didn’t get awkward or innuendo-laden when she hugged him, after they busted their perp red-handed.

She remembers that day in the hangar. Relives how afraid she had been for her daughter. And she remembers so very clearly her pure, unadulterated relief when Lucifer appeared even though she made him promise not to. Hears again how he tries to manipulate Malcom – and how he failed. The gunshot echoed through her head then, and it does now as well. The thump of his body hitting the floor and the more solid crack of his head hitting the cement in fast succession to it.

She hears his harsh breathing, can make out the sound of words but isn’t near enough to understand him.

And then, just when she thought _, well, this is it, this is the end of the line_ – just when she’d been ready to give up, there he came. Hearty and hale, mocking grin firmly fixed on his face and oh-so-alive.

She knows now that he spoke the truth back then – that he died and got better.

Died then to save them both, and now… now he’s gone because of her. She’d say she hates herself a little for being the reason but that would be a lie. She hates herself a lot.

*** *** ***

The little Miracle is tenacious, she can give her that. Her whole body feels numb by now, and the human must be at least as exhausted, but still she’s here and trying.

Sunrise is approaching fast now – she can feel the difference in the air, notices how the sound of night-dwellers cuts out, only to be exchanged by the trill and hum of their daytime counterparts.

She can barely make out the stars anymore, and the sky is changing to the grey-blue-black it turns into to prepare for the burst of color that is actual sunrise.

As she watches, the first rays climb over distant hills, the first hints of red, purple and pink appear, and she’s lost.

Her husband hasn’t answered her pleas and He had turned a deaf ear on his very own Miracle. All she wants to do is to sink down and lay beside her son, beg the human to take a shovel and bury them both. What else is there to do now?

Lucifer had been the only one of her children still even remotely willing to spend time with her. He had been on the verge of maybe forgiving her. All the others had long since written her off. Amenadiel might have been willing to work with her, but not for her sake. He wanted to go back home, had been willing to pay every price for it. So associating with her was just another kind of payment for him.

And now she had nothing left, but she had to go on regardless.

What she spoke to Him had been true – she doesn’t know how to die, how to cease being. She’s a Goddess, the Mother of all Angels. There’s too much Light and Power to her being, and she has no idea how to snuff it out.

Instead of jumping into the grave, she gets up. Lays her hand on… _Chloe’s_ shoulder and shakes her head. Pretends not to see the tears she cries, just as she pretends her own eyes are dry.

Then she takes the shovel that Chloe had brought with her earlier and starts to heap the earth back over the body. They exchange places halfway through, the human shoveling, the Goddess watching. They don’t stay long after that.

*** *** ***

Memory starts flooding back with a vengeance as soon as he leaves the Dark Place behind. He remembers he’s Lucifer, and makes a face at the fact that he called himself Samael while trapped. Trying to shake off _that_ disturbing memory, he searches his suit for cigarettes, only to realize there are no pockets. And, come to think of it, he’s not actually wearing a suit either, and _where in the world_ is he, anyway?

“I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

And he won’t admit to the little half jump he makes, _or_ to the aborted sound that might or might not have been a squawk but sue him – he hadn’t expected a bloody answer!

“I am relatively sure you haven’t been in Kansas to start with. Or, quite possibly, ever. Not quite your scene, is it?”

He turns around and blinks. Blinks some more. Pinches himself for good measure and yeah, okay. The robes he’s wearing should’ve tipped him off, really.

“It’s a turn of phrase. Means I’m not where I started, or where I’m supposed to be.”

He can see that He is going to make an effort to convolute the meaning of his words again, so he hurries to specify.

“And before you start _yes_ , I know I am _from_ the Silver City. I just _meant_ that I was in LA, last I remember, and this is definitely not LA.”

His Father just looks at him, calm as you please, and somehow, he feels betrayed by the complete lack of aggression, shouting, and Smiting Of The Devil. This is not how he thought this would be like.

“To be fair, son, this is more a city of Angels than that loud, shrill place you call home nowadays can _ever_ aspire to be.”

“… well yes. Point.”

And so they stand there, and he has a feeling that God, in all His Mighty Glory, feels as out of His depth as he is.

“So why am I here, exactly? And also, how?”

A short, nearly non-existent silence precedes an answer, but it’s there nonetheless and he grows suspicious. He should’ve been from the beginning, but it’s been so long since he set foot in Heaven, and it threw him off his game for a while there.

“What is your last, clear memory?”

And _hell_ no, he’s not going to play this game.

“Oh, quit the pussyfooting. I know that I died – or that I’m still dead, maybe. What I want to know is why I’m _here_ , not what _happened_.”

His Father actually looks as close to poleaxed as He will probably ever get, so HAH. Devil – 1, God – 0. And the fact that He actually takes some time to think His answer through, that He doesn’t just sprout out His first thought is something like a balm to an open wound as well. It means he earned at least the consideration of well thought out words.

“I… seized an opportunity. I could’ve sent you back to your body, or just back Down. Could’ve let your Light fade away.”

He feels a little of the cold seep back into him at those last words. He knows now that that’s what’s been happening. That he had been very, very close to being Gone. But he feels his Father isn’t finished, so he just nods as a sign to continue.

“I even contemplated to let things play out as they would but… someone needed to put a stop to this fight that had lost meaning eons ago. And I felt that letting you cease to exist would’ve been cheating… and I _would_ have missed you, no matter what you believ, so I brought you here instead. I couldn’t have done it alone, either. Your Mother had deemed it fit to jump over Her own shadow. She opened Her mind to me and made it possible for me to pull you here, even though you’ve been too far away even for me.

“And Chloe Decker helped, as well. She was near enough to make you malleable to my interference.”

He really wants to give Him a few choice words. How He could’ve reached out a _lot_ sooner, and with way more comfortable methods. How He has absolutely _no_ stones to throw where jumping over one’s shadow was concerned.

Most of all, he wanted to absolutely _forbid_ Him to ever mention Chloe again. He did neither. He actually really wants to know how this is going to play out, and for once he doesn’t want his mouth to get in the way of things.

“So what _did_ you do, instead? I know I’m not alive. I know I can’t be a soul – you need to _have_ one for that. But I’m neither intangible, nor am I in my body. What did you do to me, what’s the plan?”

“Oh, the plan? Well, that is easy. I’m giving you a choice.”

*** *** ***

They’re just far enough away that they wouldn’t have been able to see the grave if they were to look back when there’s a loud, wet-sounding crash. They look at each other and sprint back the way they just came, only to come to a skittering halt on the edge of the clearing.

The hole they’d just finished shoveling shut was wide open again, loose, freshly turned earth thrown wide as though from an explosion.

And Lucifer. Dirty and disheveled, kneeling on the ground just in front of the newly opened hole in the ground.

He looks at them, grins shakily and tries to get his feet under him. It takes him three tries to make it to a standing position, and already he’s weaving as though drunk. When he starts to walk towards them and stumbles on the second step, she’s shaken out of her stupor and rushes towards him. She reaches her partner just as his legs give out, and manages to keep him upright, if barely.

His mother is there only seconds later. His eyes are open and tracking, but he’s not really conscious, either. They don’t waste any time talking, just pull his arms over their shoulders and start walking.

He moves with them, though it’s slow going and sluggish. It takes them forever and a day to reach Charlottes car and she wonders how she didn’t see it the night before (She also knows she’s grasping at every logical thought she can get her hands on, because she’d go into hysterics otherwise.).

They get him into the backseat, and though Chloe can see that the other woman really wants to go sit with her son, Charlotte slips behind the wheel and buckles in, instead.

They’re trying to decide what to do, but Lucifer doesn’t look all that good (she’s a liar. He looks beautiful. Godsend. Well, _probably_ Godsend.), so they decide on the nearest hospital.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, but she thinks he recognizes her sometimes. His head is bedded on her lap, and one time he looks right into her eyes. And he speaks, and she never wants him to stop, even though he’s just stating facts.

“Blue eyes. Blond hair.”

And he lifts his hand up and brushes a tear from her cheek, and she’s so happy she could burst. He falls asleep soon after, but he’s breathing, and his skin doesn’t feel so unnaturally cold anymore.

*** *** ***

_“You’re giving me a choice. And what choice might that be, exactly.”_

_He knows he sounds petulant. He knows and he doesn’t care, because **of course** his Father needs to go and sound all magnanimous and benevolent when He says things like that. And he wants to hate himself for the hope in his own voice, but he can’t. It’s been millennia, and still he had never been able to forget how it felt to be his Father’s favorite, and sometimes he still yearns to have this feeling back._

_“I can’t allow you to stay on earth. I swore, a long time ago, that I wouldn’t meddle in any big way in human affairs. You’re… upsetting a balance, walking among them like you are. The little trips you went on in the past where neglectable. But to stay there for years, it’s bound to have dire consequences, sooner or later.”_

_And **ah** , there it is. There is his anger and bitterness. He settles them around himself like an old, comfortable coat and gets ready to tear Him a new one._

_Only to get the wind taken out of his sails. His Father takes two quick steps forward and His hands are on his shoulders, and he wants to close the remaining distance and hug Him. His old compatriots are pulling away and run for the hills._

_“But that also gave me an idea. So. Three choices. First: You can stay here, with your family. Come home, rejoin the ranks. Take back your place at my side.”_

_He wants to snort and deny that one out of hand immediately, only…_

_“You have fought for your free will, and you will keep it, even if you should decide to come home.”_

_He thinks He is having fun with this, too. Taking the righteous indignation out of him with every second sentence. Bastard._

_“Second: You can go back to Hell. Rule over it, as you have done for so long now. You have always been your own master there, and you did a good job of it. You will have the freedom to leave whenever you want to, but you can’t leave for as long again. Hell needs a true ruler, and you can’t be that if you spend days, weeks and months or longer away. The fact that your brother managed to set a soul loose proves that only too well.”_

_He only nods. It’s true, and he knows it, even if he might not like it._

_“Third:…”_

_And he hears what his Father says, and he can swear he hears his own blood rushing through his head, even though he has no body and therefore no heartbeat._

_“But that’s… that’s not a bloody choice at all! That’s Do or Die – literally!”_

_God just steps back from him and smiles serenely. He already knows what the answer is going to be. It’s a no-brainer, really._

*** *** ***

 

*** Epilogue ***

He wakes up to quiet talking, beeping noises and the sharp smell of disinfectant. Someone is gripping his right hand hard enough to make his fingers tingle, and there’s the warm presence of a body pressed to his left side.

It’s a chaos of sniffles, hugs and _feelings_ once he opens his eyes and people see he’s awake.

But the person crushing his fingers is Chloe, and it’s Beatrice who’s cuddled up to him – and she’s crying and apologizing for the cuddling because she knows he doesn’t like it, but well. Crying. So he tells her it’s fine, just this once, and she dives right back in, and is asleep in less than a minute.

People start to leave when his eyes start to droop. Maze squeezes his hand once, tells him she’s going to want details, but that she’s glad he’s not gone.

Then it’s just Chloe, her sleeping offspring, and him. She hasn’t let go of him once – neither of them has.

“You don’t have to stay, you know? I’m reasonably sure your own bed is far more comfortable than that chair. I know _I_ wouldn’t stay if I weren’t too bloody tired to get up right now.”

She looks at him as though he’s suddenly grown a second head. Or horns.

“If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight right now, you’re delusional.”

He has to grin now, because there’s not much he likes better than the way her eyes look when she thinks he’s being an idiot.

“Well, darling. You _always_ think I’m delusional, so it’s really just business as usual, yes?”

Her next words are very matter of fact, so he takes them at face value. He had always been able to do that, with her.

“I saw half of Maze’s face melt away when I came to the penthouse. When you failed to be there when I woke up. And I just witnessed a resurrection. Whatever I _think_ doesn’t really matter. I _know_ , now. And I really don’t care. Devil or not, you’re still my partner.”

His silent laughter nearly wakes her daughter up, but me manages to stifle it in time.

“Now what’s so funny about that?”

She tries to sound indignant, but the edges of her mouth didn’t get the message, because she can’t quite hide her own, answering smile.

“Oh just… timing.”

“Meaning?”

“I took the Third Door.”

He’s grinning so wide now his cheeks hurt from it.

“I’m human.”

*** END ***

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... I did the thing were I didn't actually take ANY of the things all you lovely reviewers suggested. Turned out the story didn't want to end sad, but also didn't want to lead back to the status quo, so this happened.  
> Hope you like how it turned out.  
> Now, before I take my bow - at least for this series - I want to THANK ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE FOR LEAVING KUDOS AND REVIEWS!  
> Those things always make my day!  
> Thanks for sticking with me, and for encouraging me to keep going. It had been a blast!  
> *bows out*


End file.
